


where i go to burn

by dansunedisco



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Trauma, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7206008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes to slowly-- he’s lying face down in bed, fingers curled in the sheets, and it takes a moment to register the dip in the bed by his back, the warm hand wrapping around his hip to slowly tilt him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where i go to burn

Steve comes to slowly-- he’s lying face down in bed, fingers curled in the sheets, and it takes a moment to register the dip in the bed by his back, the warm hand wrapping around his hip to slowly tilt him back. He rolls with it, squinting up at Bucky to mumble out a soft, “What time is it--?” before he’s caught in a slow, burning kiss. He sighs into it, pliant and half asleep, groaning when Bucky catches his lower lip between his teeth with a gentle tug.

“Bad night?” he asks, and lets Bucky push him back onto his stomach with a whispered, “yeah.” Bucky only gets like this-- quiet and needy and somber-- when it’s been a bad one, and Steve’s not in the right mindset to do much more than go along for the ride. It’s not healthy, maybe, to use physicality as therapy, but there’s a time for talking, and, despite Bucky’s adamant complaints otherwise, Steve’s always been good at picking his battles. 

He folds his arms above his head and grips his elbows, shuffles his knees out, turns his cheek against the bed; he steadies his breathing as Bucky settles against him, still fully clothed, but it grows ragged as Bucky starts to touch him: Small, fluttering presses against his neck, his shoulder blades, down the dip in his spine, until Bucky settles his thumb against Steve’s rim-- moving it in slow circles that promise more.

“ _Steve,_ ” Bucky says, rocking his finger into Steve with a shallow thrust, steadily in, in and in. Steve groans in turn, shifts against the intrusion-- he’s still tender from their rough fuck two nights ago, when there was barely any time to do much more than breathe through it-- but this is good, so good. The slow burn of the stretch settles like embers in his skin; taking whatever Bucky needs to give him is the easiest thing in the world, the whole world, and he shudders at the slow pace that’s set. It’s not a tease for the sake of one, he knows that, but his dick throbs like it is. 

Bucky’s arm-- his left arm-- comes around then, his hand settling on the back of Steve’s neck like a cold weight. His breathing is broken, too, and he shifts restlessly against Steve’s side. “I want--” he says, fingers twitching, “I need to--” 

“Whatever you want,” Steve answers. He lifts his head a little, because he knows this game, and chokes on a gasp when Bucky’s hand slips around to grip his neck from the front, metal tight and unrelenting on the hinge of his jaw. He’s trapped, getting finger fucked and held in place, and his eyes slowly roll into the back of his head when a wave of dizzying heat burns its way across his skin; he rolls his hips down into the mattress, stuttering out a moan, “fuck, fuck, _oh fuck_ ,” the grip on his elbows going slack as he arches into Bucky’s rhythm, uses his hands to press back. It’s not often he can relax, let go completely, but it’s _Bucky_ who he trusts more than anything or anyone, and if this is helping Bucky as much as it’s helping him-- it must be okay. This is okay.

Somewhere in the mix he’s manhandled upright, yanked to his knees. Bucky’s holding him hard enough to bruise-- he _can_ bruise-- but he doesn’t care; there’s one, two lubed fingers pressing into him now, the slow pace turned sudden, hurried, and his head is pulled back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. The cradle is awkward; his knees slip in the sheets and his back is already aching from the strain of the position, but he feels Bucky’s dick slip between his spread cheeks and-- and then he’s getting filled in slow, measured thrusts. He tries to turn his head, but Bucky holds him still and straight as he rolls his hips forward, pins his arm across Steve’s chest. There’s no leverage to be had, so Steve reaches back to clutch at Bucky’s hip with one hand, and strokes over the head of his dick with the other. 

“You-- I saw you--” Bucky gasps suddenly, into his ear, “you were dead--” 

Steve moans, “I’m not, I’m here, I’m _here,_ ” and he comes, hot and hard in his hand. Bucky bites down into the meat of his shoulder and follows immediately, twitching inside of Steve before he pulls out with a filthy, wet sound. They drop to the side, together, and it takes a good half hour before Bucky relaxes his hold enough for Steve to twist around in the circle of his arms. They’re nose-to-nose this way, and it’s startlingly easy to see the haunted shadows coloring Bucky’s eyes in the faint light coming in through his bedroom window.

Three months he’s had Bucky back-- three months of taking a step forward just to take two steps back-- but they’re three months he wouldn’t exchange for anything. Except for, maybe, none of this to ever have happened in the first place. He presses his lips together, realizing he’s frowning when he sees a ghost of one staring back at him. Bucky reaches forward then, a stutter-stop of movement -- _is any of this real? --_ and Steve answers by pulling his hand to his chest and holding fast; _yes, always yes._

**Author's Note:**

> *cracks knuckles*
> 
>  
> 
> [nsfw gif for your viewing pleasure](http://67.media.tumblr.com/c5170567ec13bc224dea1aff0349ca64/tumblr_mxkuq9lg7K1rcy6ewo1_500.gif)


End file.
